Echoes of Gunfire
by so-vast-as-the-sky
Summary: A Birkoff story, post- Gail but pre-AFRT. Has an original character and an outside location. Please R&R.


Prologue  
  
Monday, September 7th, 2001  
  
Section One  
  
Location: Unknown  
  
Time: 12:01 AM, Western Europe  
  
Seymour Birkoff walked down the hall with obvious reluctance, but paused only briefly. No matter how many times he had come down this exact corridor heading to Madeline's office he was still wary, an instinct he had not been able to rid himself of. After all, in Section, sometimes instincts were the only things you had to keep you alive. However unlike other operatives the fear of death did not hang over him like a darkened cloud, he knew that he was currently irreplaceable, even by the child-genius from hell Greg Hillinger. But if there were worse things that death, - and through reading various files during his years here he had learned there were many-, then Section One practiced all of them with a vengeance, and he was still susceptible to those. In reality, his fears were justified. That didn't make him feel any better.  
  
He stopped outside of her office and punched in the code quickly. That was something he never understood, since everyone had the code then why did she bother coding it? She had to have a reason and the fact that he was unable to determine it only proved he was useless in Systems. As soon as the door slid open he entered, painfully aware he had already delayed the inevitable too long.  
  
"You wanted to see me?" He asked.  
  
A well-groomed woman of maybe fifty sat behind a desk, her legs crossed at the knee, an ambiguous expression that maybe once resembled a smile playing on her features.  
  
"Yes, Birkoff, please sit down."  
  
If Birkoff had ever been read the tale of the spider and the fly as a child he would have been making comparisons by then, however as it was he sat down with a jerky motion.  
  
Madeleine observed the boy- in truth he was three years past adolescence, let alone childhood, but she couldn't shake the image of him as a precocious eight-year-old no matter what behavior he exhibited now- with an air of maternity. Though she'd never admit it and didn't often allow it she felt responsible for this young man; after all, she had practically raised him. He however, she knew, did not look at her as a mother figure, fortunately because that behavior would be unacceptable, but more of a stern aunt, or a dictator.  
  
Presently she removed a PDA from her top desk drawer and placed it, right way up from his position, in front of Birkoff. The information she wanted to show him was already called up; it contained a picture and list of statistics on a young girl with dark blonde hair.  
  
"This is Wisteria Thompson, she is seventeen years old. Her case is…unique and we're treating it as such. There will be a briefing on her retrieval in one hour, you need to have reviewed her file by then." Madeleine paused knowing what is coming.  
  
Birkoff touched a few of the controls on the pad only to not receive the answers he's looking for. "This information is incomplete." He commented.  
  
"Correct, both her psychological profile and reason for recruitment have been omitted." Madeleine replied.  
  
"Why?" The confusion he was feeling only worsened in that moment as many unanswered questions spun around his head. Such as why was he being informed separately by Madeleine? And why was Wisteria's file edited? And what did this all mean to him?  
  
"We have our reasons." Madeleine stated.  
  
Of course, you have your reasons, and you want to keep them all to yourself, Birkoff thought sourly but he nods.  
  
"Now, as I said, this is a unique case. This fact relates to you in so far as you will be Wisteria Thompson's mentor."  
  
Despite the fact that he had nothing in his mouth or throat Birkoff almost choked. "What?" was out of his mouth before he could think to reign in his thoughts.  
  
"You have been assigned as her mentor. I expect a retrieval profile within the hour." Madeleine repeated.  
  
This was the universe's way of fucking with him, he decided, either that or Madeleine suddenly developed a sense of humor. Him, a mentor, that was like suggesting Walter as an advocate for celibacy. Fuck. He wasn't trained to do this.  
  
"But I'm not trained to do that." Was the only thing he could think of to say.  
  
"Which is one of the many reasons you were chosen. An unorthodox approach needs to be taken and Nikita is currently on a mission."  
  
He knows that could have changed that if they had really wanted her here, so there had to be a good reason they had chosen him instead. Scanning the girl's profile his brow furrowed behind his rose-tinted glasses, the girl had little computer skills to speak of so it wasn't that she was doing a focused Com program, which might explain the odd choice. Nor was she relative to any important person, whom would not want her dead, so she wasn't avoiding cold ops. In the entire profile there was only two things that even remotely gave logic to his involvement. One, she was distrustful of adults and he was the youngest high level, mentor level, operative, and two, she was, and may still be, suicidal. Birkoff had a fair knowledge of the subject, considering the many times he had considered it, but something always drew him back. It wasn't his love for Section, though Section One was the only home he had ever known in his memory, but something inside of Section. Like Walter, the old man had saved his life more times than he knew, or a need to prove himself, one that overruled the desire to die. Not that it mattered why he'd been selected at this point, only that he now had fifty minutes to come up with a feasible retrieval plan, one that according to the data, must not upset the target.  
  
"So, you won't tell me why me? Or what she's being brought in for?"  
  
Madeleine didn't reply.  
  
"Alright then, do I need to clear my plans with you?"  
  
"No, you are cleared to make all commanding decisions. Operations or I will only interfere if absolutely necessary."  
  
Well, that confirmed it, he was definitely being tested. Why here and now and for this he didn't know, but there was no doubt in his mind that that was what this is.  
  
This is a test; this is only a test, were it an actual emergency you'd be dead already, Birkoff mocks mentally.  
  
Birkoff began to read the file, leaving Madeline's office by instinct, weaving down the countless corridors in a long engrained pattern. He could find anywhere in Section blindfolded and half-asleep. However he was so engrossed in the file that he didn't notice Walter calling him over to his workstation until the second time.  
  
"Sorry Walter." He said, finally looking up from the PDA to smile wanly at the old man. "Guess I'm just a little preoccupied."  
  
"A little?" Walter repeats mockingly. "Where were you?"  
  
"Madeleine called me into her office, I'm getting a recruit to mentor."  
  
"You don't say! I wonder what they're up to."  
  
Birkoff nods. "Yeah, me too, whatever it is I don't want it to be my head that it comes down on. I'm reading this girl's profile, which is incomplete, trying to figure out how best to bring her in."  
  
"What did the guys in Systems say?"  
  
"That's what's incomplete." He mutters. "I only have forty-five minutes now."  
  
Sensing his friend wanted to cut the conversation short Walter said, "Good luck, amigo," and with that he went back to the explosive he was working on.  
  
Birkoff sighed and nodded, returning to his workstation. He could spend some of his time trying to track down more information on this girl, but Madeleine would most likely be watching for him to do that. Better just to work with what he had. All the basic information was there:  
  
Name: Wisteria Ivy Thompson  
  
Age: 17  
  
Sex: female  
  
Hair: dishwater blonde  
  
Eyes: dark green  
  
Height: 5'2"  
  
Weight: 118 lbs.  
  
Family: deceased  
  
Note: retrieve alive  
  
Location: Brisbane University, London, England  
  
The list went on and on, but it didn't tell him much of anything about her except what he had already seen and that she had a hard time connecting with people. Which meant that she needed to feel she could trust him if they wanted her to cooperate with whatever they had planned. Easier said than done in a place like this. However it was enough for an idea to form in his mind and he used his console to call up information on the newest full status operatives. Within minutes he had the perfect ones, both level one and under twenty-five, he had to add a level two operative as well, in case of any unforeseen problems, but he was relatively young also.  
  
It didn't take him long to create a work-up, as she was in an unsecured location and wasn't expecting them. A single four-man team, including him, would suffice. They could do that night, in fact. The sooner the better, since the classes at her college wouldn't start until tomorrow. No one to miss her yet. He wrote down the schematics and spent the last fifteen minutes before the briefing playing 3-D Pinball on his laptop.  
  
1 Chapter One  
  
Section One  
  
1 AM  
  
Birkoff  
  
Once I got to the briefing table I called the three other planned members, all of whom, luckily, were in house. They arrived at the table promptly, though Gretchen Taylor's hair was disheveled and she looked like she was still half-asleep. Besides Gretchen, whom was twenty and had only achieved full operative status the week before, there was Kendall Fritz, a spirited if hot-headed transferred operative with familial connections inside one of the sub-stations, and Vincent Descant, a level two operative one belonged as one of Walter's Five-Percent Club. At one time Vincent had been a thief, but he had long ago given up that pursuit. He wasn't the best operative on file (in my opinion that was mainly because he refused to apply himself) but he was a good guy, strong and very knowledgeable in weapons technology. I had actually met him through Walter and, if anything, I trust the older man's judgement of people.  
  
As always with lower priority missions Operations was not there to give information or supervise, so I was left more or less on my own, though Madeleine joined me once the others had convened. Reviewing my choices no doubt.  
  
"Alright this is pretty basic," I played with the controls on the holographic projector for a moment before Thompson's picture popped up, "her name is Wisteria Thompson, we will be arranging her disappearance tonight." Another picture appeared. "She attends Brisbane University outside of London, England. We will land here," a small town airport came up, "using a charter craft. The college is unsecured and using this back entrance," clicking the button again, I pulled up another image in Wisteria's general information file, "we will retrieve the target from the second floor and removed all evidence of her inhabitance. That's mainly why the three of you are along, I cannot do all that myself in the allotted control window. Also because she will not be tranquilized during retrieval I may need some help convincing her out of the building."  
  
I held my breath waiting for the team's reaction, it was a very uncharacteristic mission, which even the newest of them, Gretchen, would notice.  
  
Vincent was the first to react. "Wait, you're going with us?"  
  
Shaking off my annoyance at the casual feeling of that statement, knowing that even though I am head of COM it was hard for field operatives to look at me as anything more then a smart kid, I answered him.  
  
"Yes. Actually I will be team leader."  
  
Even Madeleine displayed a micro-moment of surprise at that statement; as I was not trained as a cold op and had never shown any interest in the field. I had no interest in the field, except being as far away from it as humanly possible.  
  
"It is not a hostile situation, just a simple retrieval of a non- trained target." I added more for Madeline's benefit than the teams.  
  
Kendall, probably sensing I was more liable to answer questions than Madeline, Operations, or any of the other leaders, seized the opportunity and asked, "Why aren't we using tranquilizers?"  
  
"Wisteria has a bio-chemical sensitivity, we can't be sure how she would react when injected."  
  
"Any other questions?"  
  
There were none.  
  
"We leave in half an hour, the exact mission perimeters are on your panels. Dismissed."  
  
I breathed a sigh of relief when all but Madeline were gone, as for Madeline she looked about to question me.  
  
"Wisteria does not have any drug sensitivities."  
  
"I did not want to explain the special circumstances." I replied, I had seen this coming. "The aftereffects of those drugs can be disorienting and painful, two things which will only manage to aggravate the target."  
  
Madeline nodded her approval, thinking that maybe there was some hope for Birkoff to stop relying on computers for all his SIMs.  
  
"Do you think it was wise to select yourself as team leader?"  
  
Her face was blank but I knew that she was paying very close attention to my answer, even closer than normal.  
  
"Yes, the fewer faces she sees the better. In fact I was considering requesting she not be put in recruit quarters, but rather in the empty rooms adjacent to mine."  
  
"And why is that?" She prompted.  
  
I knew she was completely aware of why I'd suggest that but I played along anyway, explaining it on my own terms. "Because it states she will not be having a standard training and alienating her from the other recruits while she is required to live with them will only promote feelings of hostility. Therefore she should be located near a friendly face, like me, though once she passes training, assuming she does, I'd hope to place her near Nikita." I did my best Michael impression, stating everything as neutrally as I could. Truthfully I'm scared out of my mind, if she does not approve this then she doubts me, if she does then I'm virtually alone in training Wisteria, a responsibility I am not sure I am ready for.  
  
However it was then Madeline nodded and smiled, or at least does what some might think of as a smile for her, and stated, "If you think that is best," which was as close as I'm going to get to approval. With that I walked away, hoping to catch a few minutes of uninterrupted conversation with Walter before my presence was required down in Van Access.  
  
"Hey amigo," Walter greeted me, "heard your playing team leader today for the retrieval of a pretty girl." He winked.  
  
God, how did he already know? For a bunch of covert operatives they all has really big mouths.  
  
I smiled wanly and readjusted my glasses, another nervous habit, before entering Walter's workstation to find my emergency stash of M&Ms. I found them, but they were already opened.  
  
"Nikita?" I asked breaking out into a grin.  
  
"Yea, Sugar has a sweet tooth."  
  
"Which you were all-too-happy to appease." I replied, popping a few half-melted pieces of candy into my mouth. "As for the mission, yeah, I'm the team leader. Weird, I know, but there's been a lot of weird missions lately. Lots of things that don't make a lot of sense or don't seem to be connected. I think something big is going down." I confided. "And I think just maybe that this girl Wisteria is at the middle of it."  
  
Walter mulled over this for a few minutes while readjusting the switch of a remote-triggering device; his gray hair pulled out behind him into a ponytail so as not to fall into his face while working. Finally he replied, "Could be, the Bosses haven't been acting themselves lately. But, of course, there's always something going on with those two."  
  
Just then an operative, Helen or Heather or something, walked in and checked out a weapon for her mission, reminding me of the other piece of business I came for.  
  
"I need a gun."  
  
Walter eyed me.  
  
"I might not be a field op but it'd just be stupid to walk into a situation with so many unknowns unarmed." Walter nodded and walked back into the shelves returning with a small gun, a Baby Glock. "Here you go. Don't forget to check it out."  
  
"Thanks Walter."  
  
"No problem, amigo, just don't get yourself hurt out there."  
  
"Thanks for the concern but this is going to be no sweat."  
  
Brisbane University, Nostradamus Hall  
  
Outside of London  
  
2:33 AM  
  
I knew better than to say things like that, they always came back to haunt me. Like now. As it was it turned out Wisteria was not as defenseless as her profile said she was because before I, or Vincent for that matter, had known what was happening she been out of Vincent's reach and slashing his hand with a switchblade. That was when he tried to grab her, since then we'd successfully disarmed her but it wasn't going well for my maintain-a- calm-perspective scenario.  
  
Then I tried the adult approach, I talked to her in soothing tones, saying, "Wisteria, hi, my name's Birkoff. I work for something like the government, its called Section One, you're being recruited into it. Don't worry, we're not here to hurt you, all we want is for you to come with us."  
  
She hadn't believed me; I didn't blame her because I wouldn't have believed me either. But it had brought me to the point where I was tempted to use the tranquilizer despite the negative reaction she might have.  
  
Finally, still holding the cloth over her mouth to keep her from screaming, a tactic we had to resort to after she had taken Vincent by surprise I had resorted to an ultimatum.  
  
"Listen, either you come with us willingly or we drug you and you come with us anyway. I know I wouldn't want to be drugged so how about just cooperating, when we get where we're going you can throw a huge temper tantrum if you want, alright?"  
  
While waiting for her to decide I thought to myself that if this didn't work I was going to be the one to scream. Suddenly she nodded against me; she was pulled up tight against me and if I hadn't been so irritated and upset at that moment I would have been aroused.  
  
"Alright, you try anything and I set him," I nodded at Vincent, who was nursing his wound angrily- it's not that he hadn't had worse but the fact that a little, untrained girl had caught him by surprise and did this to him- more of a wounded ego than pain, "loose against you." I paused for effect. Vincent, not one to disappointed, stared menacingly. "Do you understand?"  
  
She nodded again.  
  
I let her go but she didn't move far from me, almost clinging to me as the only friendly face in the room. Good, at least *something* was going as I had anticipated. She looked around the room, warily, like a scared child, but her demeanor suddenly changed again and she watched Vincent.  
  
"You deserve that you stupid fuck. Not checking to see if I was asleep or not." She grinned, giggling a little.  
  
I stifled a grin, knowing they, especially Vincent, who glared death at her, wouldn't appreciate it at the moment. Nikita was going to love her.  
  
'What is Section One?' was the next thing out of her mouth.  
  
Glad to be on relatively neutral territory again I answered her. "Section One is a covert anti-terrorist group. Basically we do a bunch of things you don't even realize go on every day." I was acting like a regular teenager, something I had never been but at the same time was stuck at, much to my teammates surprise. "Listen, this isn't fair, I realize that, but you don't have a choice now. Not unless you can pull a Houdini, but I'm more or less on your side in this. I don't remember being recruited but I'm sure it freaked me out."  
  
She nodded agreeably.  
  
"But, I've lived in Section for as long as I remember, and it's not that bad, as long as you watch your back and make a couple of a friends. I'll introduce you to Nikita when she gets back, I'm sure you'll become friends. Is there anything you want to take with you right now? All the stuff is coming with us but it'll be packed up."  
  
She surveyed the room and nodded. "My Walkman and a couple of pairs of clothes."  
  
"Alright." I nodded, readjusting my tinted glasses, which must look out of place in a dark room at two A.M., and looked over at Gretchen. Deciding it wasn't that big of a risk I said, "Somebody turn on a light."  
  
Immediately a light snapped on illuminating the oddity of the situation. Gretchen stood next to one of the lamps, her weapon held loosely at her side, while Kendall looked confused as to whether she should be watching Wisteria or packing and Vincent was still messing with his cut. I barely noticed any of this though. The main focus of my attention was Wisteria, who stood between her bed and me, her arms wrapped around her stomach, trembling. I grabbed her Walkman off the dresser and the CD pack next to it, handing them to her, which she took nervously, clutching them tightly. Then I went over to the dresser.  
  
"Uh, you should probably do this." I said, trying vehemently not to blush. Last thing I needed to look like was some embarrassed teenager in front of my team.  
  
Wisteria nodded, quickly, efficiently, gathering three or four outfits of clothing, of two distinct styles.  
  
"At least she looks like a Section operative." Kendall commented, in what seemed to be a feeble attempt to lighten the mood of the room.  
  
Wisteria looked at her suspiciously and I decided it was time to get out of here.  
  
"Pack her things. We'll be returning to Section separately. You have your egress plans." I pulled a small disk in a plastic cover out of my pocket. "Here's backup and my plans. If I don't return in the allotted time Michael will be in charge of my retrieval. Vincent you know the protocol." I sighed. At least Madeline had approved of this. I had desperately needed some downtime anyway. I picked up the bag Wisteria had put her stuff in and walked to the door, waiting for her to follow, she did, looking warily at Vincent. I gave one last look at the older man before exiting the room behind her. We're not five yards out of the doorway before I burst out laughing.  
  
"Sorry, but man, the look on his face was classic. Totally classic." I paused for breath. "You were right, and he knows it. He should have checked and he should have had his gun at the ready and he shouldn't let his guard down on someone just because they're smaller and younger than he is. 'Course people have been doing that to me for years."  
  
This gained a small, weak smile from Wisteria, which I returned. We walk the rest of the way to the car I have waiting in silence. It's a small, black, convertible. My car, but Walter's idea. I pull the keys out of one of the pockets of my gray cargo pants and open the door to put Wisteria's pack in it. But I didn't get in and I didn't open the door for Wisteria to either, instead I looked at her over the car roof.  
  
"Normally you'd be drugged by now and on your way back to Section, where you'd wake up two days from now groggy, disoriented, with a major headache, and everyone you ever knew would think you were dead. Suicide, probably, given the attempts. You may have noticed but that isn't happening." I shrugged. "Personally I don't know why, and that's pissing me the hell off. Especially since I'm suppose to train you, not that I've been told what I'm training you for either, because the people in charge, a woman named Madeleine and a man referred to only as Operations- at least in front of him- refuse to tell me. And I know better than to hack the information, like I could." I grin at her. "So, I decided to take the opportunity to con a little downtime outta the bosses. Which means we have three days to kill until we actually have to be back." Adding quickly. "But I can take you there now, if you want."  
  
"I don't want." She shook her head; she was shaking again, a little harder now. Even though I knew it wasn't from the cold I still offered her my jacket. To my surprise she accepted it, wrapping herself in the corduroy.  
  
"Alright. Uh, we can't really do anything big, because you know, you've disappeared, but I know this nice little B & B in the countryside, I can get us a couple of rooms. There's an amusement park nearby and a forest, your file said you liked to hike?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"While we're there I can explain what's going on more in depth. Uh, I'm gonna be you're, like, trainer, so we should, you know, get to know each other. This would be a good time to do it, outside of Section eyes and ears. Trust me, you'll get enough of those in the next two years. Of course, why would you trust me?" I laugh at myself, almost bitterly, then catch my thoughts and my attitude. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous."  
  
She looks like maybe she's going to laugh or yell at me, like I have any right to be nervous, after all, *I'm* kidnapping *her*, right? But then again she doesn't realize what's at sake, for both of us, in this. Not that I fault her for that, I mean, how could she after all? Finally I looked away from her and hit unlock on the door, so she can get in. She does and so do I, and then I can't put off starting the car any longer, though I wish I could. Technically I can drive, I know how that is, I've even done it before, but I don't do it very often, most of the places I go to outside of Section are either within walking distance or require a plane ride. I rarely have any interest or reason to drive, and because of that I am not that great at it.  
  
"Uh, I don't drive a lot, so bare with. I promise to try not to hit anything." I smile wanly and put the car into reverse.  
  
We're on the road five minutes before I relaxed a little, and when she clicked on the radio my nerves jumped. I resisted the urge to reach over and turn it off as she played with the stations, finally landing on an alternative one, where she stopped.  
  
"So, is Birkoff your real name?" She asked, fidgeting.  
  
"Uh, yeah." I don't take my eyes off the road.  
  
"First or last?"  
  
"Last." I replied.  
  
"Well, then what's your first?"  
  
I winced inwardly and muttered. "Seymour."  
  
She couldn't hear me. "What?"  
  
"Seymour." I spoke up, rolling my eyes. "But everybody calls me Birkoff."  
  
At least she didn't giggle.  
  
"Can I call you Seymour then?"  
  
I looked over at her, trying to judge whether or not she was taunting me, but she looked sincere, and scared. So I sighed.  
  
"Yeah, you can call me Seymour if you want."  
  
She smiled a little, I noticed out of the corner of my glasses, and I did too.  
  
Madeline was an idiot, I decided then, especially after the Gail- thing, unless it was her plan for me to become attached and, of course, attracted to my material. Which who the fuck knew, it might be.  
  
"Do you like to be called Wisteria or something else?"  
  
"Actually, I usually go by my middle name."  
  
I tried to recall what that was but my mind was blank, ignoring the information as non-vital.  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"You don't know?" She sounded almost amused.  
  
"Well, uh, I know I read it, but I don't actually remember. Truth is I had about half an hour to review your file so I probably missed a lot. More than I should have."  
  
"Oh, so, you don't know everything about me." I think she was teasing.  
  
"Nah, don't even know a lot about you."  
  
"Well, you still know more about me than I about you. I think we should rectify that."  
  
That almost sounds like a threat, I thought to myself, but I said, "I'm an open data file."  
  
"Alright, I already know your name, so…how old are you?"  
  
"Twenty-one."  
  
"You don't look twenty-one."  
  
I sighed. "I know, and it's a real pain in the ass."  
  
"What do you do for Section One?"  
  
"I'm Head of COMM."  
  
"That's like the guy the runs all the systems, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"At twenty-one."  
  
"I got an early start."  
  
"How early?"  
  
"My first memory was when I was five or six, it's of Section."  
  
"You were just a baby!" She exclaimed. "How could they do that to a little kid, take him from everything he knows? I mean Section doesn't sound like a kid friendly place."  
  
"It's not, I was a special circumstance. Kinda like you I guess."  
  
"Like me?"  
  
"Well, yeah, I mean, come on, I'm Head of COMM, not a mentor, what the fuck do I know except some of the most highly guarded secrets in the world. And I can't exactly teach you those, can I? But despite that here I am, with you. I'm almost as confused as you are about it. The only thing I can figure is this is either some sort of sick test, in which they want me to prove that I'm more than some kid genius with a sweet tooth, or you are very, very different from anything they've recruited before. Or both, there's always a chance it's both."  
  
"Well, what do they usually recruit?"  
  
"Killers that were convicted and thrown in prison, or ex-Military/ intelligence/ government. Every once in a while some VIPs kid or nephew, or a genius. But you aren't one of the first three, so, are you a genius?"  
  
She shook her head. "Not that I know of. Everyone says I'm really smart, but I'm not going to win the Nobel Prize anytime soon, you know."  
  
"Then what is it? What, exactly, makes you so special? Of course, you could be an innocent, after all innocents get caught in the cross hairs all the time, but I don't think you are. I just think you're different, somehow." I pushed my foot down on the gas, it was three a.m. out in the middle of nowhere; not like I was going to hit something, there wasn't anything to hit.  
  
"I'm not special." Wisteria said it so quietly that I almost didn't catch it, wouldn't have if there hadn't been a break between tracks on the radio right then.  
  
"Well, someone thinks you are." I was gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles, already pale, were turning white. "So, what did you say your middle name was?"  
  
"I didn't, but it's Ivy."  
  
"Cool."  
  
She giggled. "You really don't act twenty-one you know."  
  
"Well, I spend so much time needing to be an adult that when I get the chance I really goof off." I paused, considering.  
  
"So, we are going to that B & B, right?"  
  
She laughed. "That's where I figured you were headed."  
  
"Alright."  
  
I noted the speed-o-meter read a little under ninety but I didn't care and Ivy didn't seem to mind. The top, as black as the paint job, was up so the wind wasn't reeking havoc. It was almost peaceful in fact, the speed, like after you reach a certain point you're actually motionless. Of course I knew the mathematics of it, but somehow that took away some of the enjoyment, so I didn't dwell on them.  
  
"You said you'd explain more about Section One." She said suddenly, somber again.  
  
I thought for a moment. "What do you want to know? Like, where should I start?"  
  
"The people." She replied after a long pause.  
  
"The good, the bad, or the clinically insane?" I quipped.  
  
I immediately regretted the comment because of the look Wisteria that gave me.  
  
"Well, there's Walter and Nikita. Walter's cool, he's the weapons specialist, I guess you could call him my best friend."  
  
"So, he's young like you?" She interrupted.  
  
I laughed. "Only at heart. He's 63, I think. I don't know 'cause we're not big birthday people and he definitely doesn't want to be reminded of his age. He'll probably hit on you, don't worry, he does to anything that could wear a skirt in public. He's just a flirt. Nikita's like an older sister to me, such a bleeding heart; she's one of the innocents, though she was convicted of killing a cop. I know she didn't but that's not widely spread, so don't repeat it. Most of the time Nikita has is split between acting like a normal 27-year-old, pining after Michael, and upsetting Operations. Michael and her have a thing, unofficially, officially, unfortunately, because there's a big policy between two cold ops getting involved. Serious grounds for cancellation." I was babbling and I knew it but that was okay.  
  
"Cancellation?"  
  
I winced. "Uh, yeah, it gets you dead. It's the kind of thing that makes you screw up in the field, put the mission at risk and innocent people, so you can get cancelled for it, though they try other things first or they only kill one of the pair."  
  
I heard her gasp with disbelief beside me.  
  
"I'm not going to lie to you, Wisteria, Section One is not a pretty place, it's dark and it's violent and it's deadly. And the only reason I don't set a virus in the system or cause the self-destruct to go off is because in the end Section believes that the ends justifies the means and they're better at getting the ends than anyone else. If someone isn't up to the standards it hurts everyone, and a lot of people don't cut it, for one reason or another. The only way to protect yourself from that is be the best at what you do, and to try not to get too close to anyone. The people I'm close to, like Walter and Nikita, they probably won't die soon but I never know. Walter could die of a natural cause, as rare as that is in there. And Nikita, well, they've tried to threaten her, punish her, brainwash her, and kill her, all of these more than once. I help her when I can but I'm constantly afraid that she's not going to come back from a mission or they're finally going to convince Michael that he is the cold- blooded killer they've trained him to be.  
  
"That's why Michael falls in the bad category. I think once, before Section One got to him, he was a good guy. They've caused him so much pain, he's lost two wives and a son for them, because of them, and it's killing him emotionally. Only Nikita's arrival saved him from destroying or burying past recovery, every scrap of humanity he has. Even now they deny him that little piece of happiness because she's more important to him than the cause and that isn't acceptable when they're on the same cold op team and he's compromised the mission before in order to protect her or save her life. It's selfish and it's stupid, all he's doing is hurting both of them, but he can't love her and not protect her. I guess you could say he can't worship two gods at once, and he's at war with himself over which one to serve."  
  
"You've never had the problem?"  
  
I avoided the question or most of it, by replying with, "I'm not a cold op and I've never dated one."  
  
"Do you think you could, honestly?"  
  
"Honestly. No, I don't think I could watch someone I loved, or even run a mission with someone I loved in it, go out into the field where it would be likely for her to get shot at, or tortured, and possibly killed." I wasn't intensely focusing on the road any longer but I had slowed down to a stable sixty-five. "I don't know how he does it, how he doesn't just break down from it, but Michael's like that, he can compartmentalize his feelings."  
  
Thankfully she moved off the subject next. "Who else falls into the bad category?"  
  
"Madeleine, Section Mother, and resident evil bitch. She's going to get into your head, in fact, she already has. Truth is though, she's the better half of the pair, she at least understands that compassion is sometimes necessary with human beings. Operations is worse, less stable and rational, hot-headed and emotional a lot of the time. If Madeleine is the Ice Queen, then Ops is Satan, though I'm not religious but you get the idea. They're the bosses basically, I report directly to them as it is- though they do have a few people that they have to answer to themselves."  
  
"Then, you don't like Madeleine?"  
  
"Liking Madeleine is kinda akin to liking the hungry lioness you're locked in a cage with, but I can stand her more than most. She's nicer to me for some reason."  
  
"Where do you fit in all of this?"  
  
"You mean in our fucked up little family?" I laughed. "Man, I could just see that: Madeleine and Operations as Mom and Dad, Uncle Walter, my older sister Nikita and her boyfriend Michael. If we actually had to live together, there would be a death in the family by the end of the month. I'm not sure who'd be the first to go."  
  
We were quiet for a moment but Ivy's mood had lightened at least a little bit.  
  
"Where do you live? I mean, you work for Section One, but what you said was 'if we actually had to live together', so, you don't live there?"  
  
"I do, still, despite the valiant and repetitive efforts of both Walter and Nikita. They both have apartments, Michael does too, now that I think about it, and, uh, I'm not sure where Operations and Madeleine live. I assume they sleep, but they work even more than I do, so I've never actually seen them leave with the purpose of going to their homes more than once or twice. Oh, yeah, reminds me. You're gonna be living next to me, it's in a quiet area of Section, once was recruit housing but now it's mostly storage and electronic systems."  
  
"They have recruit housing but I won't be living with the other recruits?"  
  
"Yah. Like I said, not sure what's going on, but I thought given your battle to get a single in your college dorm you wouldn't want to be shoved with a lot of people, especially the kind of people we recruit."  
  
"You're right, a nice quiet place does sound better. Thanks for considering that."  
  
"It's halfway for me, the seclusion is nice and everything, and it was great when I was seventeen and could play music and videos as loud as I wanted despite the lack of sound proofing, but I'm over the charm." I was lying through my teeth as to the reason I selected the most removed room I could get Madeleine to agree with when I was twelve, but I figured it wouldn't matter what my reason was to her. And that's a total cop out. "You living next door means I'm not totally by myself." Never thought I'd hear that sentence out of my mouth. I laughed.  
  
"What?" She sounded jumpy, but that only made me laugh harder.  
  
"This isn't my life." I replied. "What the fuck am I doing here? God!" I choke back another fit of laughter so I could speak. "Except I don't think he's listening, I think I was just… overlooked… or something.  
  
"See, I think I've got it down to two options, but neither is pretty. I mean, either whatever I did to get in that place was so bad, such an unredeemable atrocity, that they had to remove the memory of it from me in order to salvage my abilities, or I've always lived in Section." I broke down into laughter that was rapidly changing mood. "It doesn't matter which, right now, and you know why?" The question was rhetorical and I think she was a little too freaked to have replied anyway. "Because I will never be normal, and every time I come out into this damn world I'm reminded of that. This is my hell, God's fucking playground." I had taken my foot off the gas enough that we had already lost half our speed when I slammed on the brakes.  
  
I registered the sound of the tires screeching against the asphalt high way but I barely heard it. "Sometimes I just want it to be over, I want to die, and now, I'm not afraid to anymore. But, I guess you know what that feels like, huh?"  
  
"You have better reasons." She stated.  
  
"Do I? I think we all have our reasons." I turned off the engine and banged my fist against the steering wheel. "I'm not even sure what mine are." I blinked and felt the moisture under my lids. "Look at me, you have every reason to be crying and I'm the one falling apart." I rubbed furiously at my eyes with the palms of my hands but it didn't seem to help, so I took a deep breath, also to little effect. "I think this is just the accumulation of too much stress or something."  
  
Wisteria's hand moved to pull mine away from where I was pressing against my temple and I didn't try to avoid it, but the contact only occurred to me in the vaguest sense, as a comfort.  
  
"Seymour." The name, my name, sounded foreign to me, as if she was talking to an entirely different person. "Not that I mind, because I don't, I swear, but why are you telling me this instead of one of your friends, like Walter?"  
  
"Why?" I spat out bitterly. "Because they wouldn't understand, they don't understand what it's like. They aren't young and scared and fucked up. They already learned how to deal with life inside of Section instead of pushing it all down and throwing themselves into their work, and more importantly they've learned how to balance Section with life on the outside." I looked down at our hands; hers outside of mine, with the sense of distance slowly evaporating enough that I moved her hand so I was holding it. "They can't teach me that, they've tried, and I thought I had it down, but apparently I don't."  
  
"Well, I meet your young and scared and fucked up, and raise you alone. Though maybe I can't throw that out on the table any more, after all, we've been stuck together, ya know?"  
  
"Yeah." I started the engine again and Ivy smiled at me, one of those smiles that you could actually feel, and I marveled at how, after the night she had just had she still knew how to smile.  
  
  
  
Ivy was sleeping fitfully when we arrived at the bed and breakfast. I had been to this place three times before, using it as an anonymous weekend getaway, always arriving alone in the middle of the night. I only liked to drive at night. The first time was after an Intel mission I had been dragged on because of the necessity to keep the target's information in as few minds as possible. The B&B, named after its founded, Estelle, was secluded. Because of this it was used both by young yuppies to escape the stress of 'everything' or to fuck people other than their husbands and wives, and businessmen dealing in the less than legal trades. My cover fell into the first category, a child-like Internet guru who had gotten rich on the technology boom of the mid-nineties. Not that many people, for one reason or another, had the inclination to ask questions.  
  
I sat out in the car outside of the building for three minutes trying to decide whether or not to trust that she was actually asleep and didn't plan on running the second I went inside. Finally my paranoia won out and I woke her gently.  
  
"Ivy, we're here."  
  
She whimpered. "No."  
  
I frowned, not really wanting to wake her up, but I'd have to after I checked in anyway.  
  
I leaned down so I was face to face with her. "Time to wake up."  
  
Her eyes opened suddenly and she glared at me. "Tired." She pouted.  
  
I laughed gently. "You can sleep once we check in."  
  
"Fine." She opened the door in one swift movement, and I managed to dodge the metal coming at me by the smallest bit. Passive aggressive, like Madeline, great. Shoot me now.  
  
She was quiet to my surprise, I expected her to at least attempt to draw attention to us but all she did I was lean against a wall, occasionally yawning her discontentment. It wasn't until I was at the check in counter that it occurred to me that my cover was she was my girlfriend. Terrific. Get two rooms and blow the cover or get one and end up on the floor. Brilliant planning, Seymour! No way Madeline missed this, but did she mention the oversight to me, of course not. Damn it.  
  
"Uh, one room please, preferably upstairs."  
  
I glanced back at Ivy, who, if she had heard, hadn't even flinched 


End file.
